


Noldolantë

by The_Wavesinger



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Changing Tenses, Doom, Incorrect Use of Musical Forms, M/M, Post-Traumatic Schizophrenia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Projection of Post-Traumatic Schizophrenia, Prophecy of Mandos, Romance, Schizophrenia, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:45:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4419983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/pseuds/The_Wavesinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros and Fingon; how they fight, and how they lose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noldolantë

**Author's Note:**

> _Finally_ getting around to cross-posting B2MeM fics.
> 
>  
> 
> [livejournal](http://b2mem.livejournal.com/321336.html)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  **B2MeM Challenge:** Write/draw/create another type of fanwork inspired by this song: "The Riddle" from the musical of The Scarlet Pimpernel. (Lyrics in the video.) <http://youtu.be/WAXm2FcEUBw> \--[](http://lignota.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lignota.livejournal.com/) **lignota**
> 
>  **Notes:** This is what happens when too much studying, exam stress, an entire box of those fancy liquor-filled chocolates, and 3 a.m. in the morning mix. Or, I meant to combine the prompt with another, but this happened.  
> The Doom, and one or two of the lines (Fingon’s prayer to Manwë), are taken from the Silmarillion.
> 
>  

**Prelude**  
_Theme_  
“I love you. For a thousand years I will love you.”

“Forever, and forever I will love you.”

“Beyond forever I will love you, and bear your hurt and pain, and revel in your joy.”

“And we will never part.”

 

 _Variation_  
Their first kiss is under the boughs of a great tree in the gardens of Tirion, gentle lips and quiet mouths probing tentatively.

“Findekáno.”

“Maitimo.”

 

 _Codetta_  
“I can feel our bond,” Findekáno whispered, in awestruck wonder. “I can feel _you_.”

Maitimo sighed, his face sharp in the Darkness. “He has called us. I must go.”

 

 

 **Fugue**  
_Theme_  
Findekáno throws his thoughts across the plains, searching, searching.

Nothing.

He cannot break the walls that surround his connection to Maitimo. Someone far stronger than he has sundered them ( _their Oath shall drive them_ ).

Angamando glowers at him ( _ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously_ ), and, in that moment, Findekáno decides.

He leaves tomorrow.

 

 _Variation 1_  
“Oh King to whom all birds are dear!” Findekáno cries. “Recall some pity for the Noldor in their need”

And the arrow flies, and the Eagle flies, and Findekáno flies.

Maitimo falls ( _slain ye shall be, by weapon and by torment and by grief_ ).

 

 _Variation 2_  
“You should have killed me,” Maedhros snapped.

“Maitimo…”

“Please, kill me.”

“I cannot.” Findekáno sighed and leant against Maitimo. “Please, I cannot.” _(find little pity, though all ye have slain should entreat for you_ ).

 

 _Trio_  
“I do not—” Káno shook his head. “I cannot. I do not…” He paused, took a deep breath. “I need a heir, I must beget a heir, but I cannot…”

“You must.”

“I am bonded to you, Maitimo!” ( _to evil shall all things turn that they begin well_ ).

“That bond is void.” Maedhros snapped.

“I am bound to you until the end of Arda!” Findekáno cried. A single tear glittered on his cheek.

“Marry her,” Maedhros said. No, Maitimo wept, no ( _upon all that will follow them it will be laid also)._

 

 _Theme_  
He should not be able to see Káno, across the battlefield. But he can. The bright blue banner flutters in the breeze, tattered and torn, but still whole, and he fights with a fierce intensity ( _for blood ye shall render blood_ ), and Maitimo’s heart sings with Káno’s, even as Maedhros fends off his foes.

Then the Balrog appears.

And they fight.

And Káno’s sword flies past the creature’s guard.

And another whip flies out from behind, and wraps around Káno.

And Káno.

Káno’s body screams, nerves drowning in a river of flame.

But he still fights.

This is your fault, Maedhros spits ( _by treason of kin unto kin_ ) and Maitimo cannot reply, running as though he can reach Káno, as though the space that stretches between them (has always stretched between them) is nonexistent ( _not even the echo of you lamentation shall pass over the mountains_ ).

Then there is a white flame, one blinding flash of pain, and it is over.

Maitimo falls to his knees ( _the Dispossessed they shall be for ever_ ).

 

_Coda_

Maitimo stares at the bright stone ( _on the House of Fëanor_ ) in his hand. Maedhros stares at the stone, and cries aloud in glee.

Maedhros breathes. The Oath is fulfilled( _the wrath of the Valar lieth_ ).

The stone starts to burn, scorching his hand ( _from the West_ ).

Maitimo jumps ( _unto the uttermost East_ ).

Maedhros burns. Maitimo burns. The world burns ( _the Valar have spoken_ ).


End file.
